The Second Coming
by Rosette Leclair
Summary: "All through history, there have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Always." Evil did not end with Voldemort. No, yet another prophecy shall rise, another villain shall surface. And our new heroes, the children of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and even Draco Malfoy, must travel into the past to stop him. DM/HG HP/GW
1. Prologue

_Turning and turning in the widening gyre_

 _The falcon cannot hear the falconer;_

 _Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;_

 _Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,_

 _The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere_

 _The ceremony of innocence is drowned._

 _-"The Second Coming", WB Yeats_

 **Prologue**

" _Confringo!"_

 _"_ _Protego!_ Bloody hell, Cal! Whatever happened to asking questions first and blasting later?"

The witch did not lower her wand, but her chin trembled. "James?"

A tall, scrawny young man sauntered out from behind the crumpled pillar, his arms raised in a mocking surrender and two wands-one of which had a small, leather bag tied to its handle- clutched in his fist. His black hair was matted and unkempt, as if he hadn't bothered caring for it in weeks. His pale brown eyes, despite being framed by dark circles and drooping lids, were unsurprisingly bright and eager. A broad, almost relieved grin was plastered across his dirty face.

"Miss me?"

"Drop your wand!"

"What?"

 _"_ _Expelliarmus!"_

Both wands flew out of his grip and into the hands of the witch opposing him. She crossed the room and pointed her wand directly at his heart, quite the feat due to her tiny stature and James Potter's tall and gangly form.

"What was the first thing you ever said to me?"

"Cal-"

"Just answer the question, Potter!"

James lowered his arms, the smile never disappearing from his features but losing some of its cheerfulness. "It was the very first weekend at Hogwarts, first year. You were by the Great Lake. I asked if you were part veela. Your friend- I forget her name, that Zabini girl- told me to kiss a squid. I pushed you both in. After Teddy fished you out, I told you that it reminded me of the time my little sister's pet albino rat fell into the kitchen sink. I had detention with Professor Pucey for a week. You were always a favorite of his."

Something flashed in the witch's gray eyes, but she made no move to lower her wand. "What is your patronus?"

James hesitated.

"Answer me!" she practically roared.

"I can't produce one," he hissed.

The wand drooped. "What were the last words my father said to you?"

"'This isn't the first time I've been wrong, but I suppose it must be the last.'"

Her lower lip quivered. "What was-"

"Cal, it's me. Anything you ask, I can answer. But let's not play twenty questions. I'm nearly ready to fall over."

All three wands and the tiny bag were tucked into the girl's pocket. Before James could protest, she raised her hand as if to slap him soundly across the face, but clenched her fist tremulously.

"You idiot!"

"Glad to see you, too."

"A month, James! An entire month. We thought you had died! We made a grave for you."

"That was awfully thoughtful of you."

Again she raised her arm and halted in a shadow of a smack. "Could you be serious for a single moment? Can you please just give me that? Merlin, how could you? How can you? How can you just waltz back after giving us no sign, no word and continue to act like your typical arrogant self. Sometimes I really…I just …I hate you!"

James, finally losing the bravado he had displayed this entire time, staggered backwards for the very first time as if he had been struck. "Calliope…"

Calliope shook her head wordlessly. She gripped the banister she had fallen against for support and fled up the flight of stairs, brushing past a boy who could only be her brother in her mad attempt to escape the situation. The boy's eyes widened as he took in the scene below him.

"James?"

James didn't bother looking up. His face had turned a deathly pale color, and his lips were parted slightly. The boy at the top of the stairs shifted his weight, then took a couple cautious steps in James's direction. "James?" he asked again.

James glanced at him, but him face lost none of its pallor and his smile did not return. "Hello, Scorpius."

The small boy worried his lip nervously. "What, no 'hey, Scorp'? No sarcastic comments? Are you alright?"

"The efforts seemed to be wasted on your sister. Apparently, she hates me." His voice sounded oddly hollow, a thing that did not go unnoticed by Scorpius.

He merely rolled his eyes. "She doesn't hate you. Callie could never hate you. She's just really upset. She has crazy emotions. You know, anxiety is anger and happiness is anxiety and whatnot. Might be because she's a girl, but I think she takes after our father. Don't ever tell her I said that, though."

"I'm a little surprised that can mention him so easily."

Scorpius shrugged as he moved from the final step. "I recover quickly. I always have. It's like Dad said: there's no use worrying over the past."

James studied the wall. "Grimmauld Place? Really? As if that's not obvious."

"It really isn't if you think about it. And what's that saying? Hidden in plain sight? Something along those lines. Callie was the one who thought of it. Not that I'm angry or anything, but where _have_ you been?"

James began to absentmindedly trace a crack in the wood with his index finger. "I would have explained it to your sister, if she had let me. But I blame myself. I guess I wasted time-"

"With your witty remarks? I imagine you did."

"Yeah…" James lapsed into silence.

Scorpius crossed his arms. "Well?"

James jerked his head up sharply. "What?"

The smaller boy sighed. "Are you going to explain or not?"

"I suppose your sister wouldn't care to listen anyway," James stated morosely. He settled on the bottom step of the stairs, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.

"Stop looking so lovesick. I told you before she doesn't really hate you. She's probably upstairs, feeling bad about what she said and preparing an apology. You know how she is."

"Yeah, but you dare use the 'l' word in regards to me. I am a bachelor, an untamed stallion who could have any girl any day. Besides, I just don't feel _that_ way about Cal. She's more like an annoying sister or something. Maybe even that one cousin that always kind of shows up just to be better than you."

Scorpius raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I knew I could cheer you up."

"Sod off, kid."

"After you explain. I couldn't find you anywhere during or after the battle. I assumed you were one of the unidentified victims of the fiendfyre. Hell, Callie's probably just as angry with me for misinforming her as she is with you."

James shook his head. "You know she could never be angry with you. Besides, it's her damn fault for not bothering to show up at any battles. Damn coward."

"James, you know she doesn't care for fighting."

James mumbled something else that sounded like 'damn coward.'

"Just explain, James."

"There is a reason why it is called the Department of Mysteries. It's full of, you know, mysteries."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Be serious."

James flinched. "I am. Sort of. It's complicated. The point is, I found something there, something I don't think I was really supposed to find. But I thought it might be helpful. The only problem is that I broke it."

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "How did you break it?"

"During the battle. It broke when one of the Carrows tried to curse me. They're a couple of real nutters, you know."

"And where is it now? No, a better question would be what is it?"

"It was in the bag your sister took from me," he murmured sadly, distractedly. "It's a type of time turner. It's odd, though, because it takes you back years instead of hours. That's why I couldn't contact you. When I broke it, I got stuck somewhere in the 1940s."

Scorpius's eyes widened "How long were you there?"

James's cheeks turned red and the tentative smirk that had started to form vanished. "A week. Time didn't moved differently while I was there, though. Only a couple hours passed. That's another thing. It transports across distances, as well, almost like it has a homing beacon. When it took me back, it took me to Hogwarts."

"So you could have contacted us?" The tone of his voice was in no way accusatory, merely stern. For a moment, Scorpius looked as though he were scolding the boy who was two years his elder like a disappointed parent.

"I had to check on my family. On Lily and Mum and Dad. Even Uncle Ron. Albus is still missing," he added softly, his voice wavering

"I'm sorry. You didn't let them see you, though?"

"No, of course not."

"You know, if you would work a little harder on the Patronus charm we wouldn't be having this communication problem. Even I can produce one." Scorpius added the last bit triumphantly, pride flashing momentarily in his eyes. James looked at him in surprise.

"Really?"

"Had to do something while you were away."

James allowed himself to grin. "Finally. What form?"

Scorpius snorted. "You're one to talk. An otter."

Neither of the boys could guess what that meant.

"I suppose I better practice. Can't possibly let you be better than me at something. That's just downright shameful."

Scorpius settled next to James. "So what are we going to do with a time turner that takes you back years instead of hours? You know there are strict laws governing time travel."

"You sound like Cal. Don't you see? If we travel to the past, we were meant to travel to the past. Everything that we do there will have already happened for us. What if what we've been looking for-the horcrux- disappeared back in 1996 disappeared only because we went back in time and took it? The guy made it in 1995. If we could make it back to the last time anyone saw it, we'd be golden. War over. Lives back to normal."

"Yeah," Scorpius scoffed. "Normal."

James paled again. "You guys can come live with us if you'd like. I'm sure Dad would be perfectly fine with it. And I know for a fact that Mum adores Cal."

"I'm sure Mr. Weasley would be absolutely thrilled. He'd probably have an aneurism if he knew 'the enemy' was living with his little sister and her family."

James shrugged. "Uncle Ron could get over it. He needs either a hobby or a girlfriend. I think the latter would be a bit more difficult for him."

Scorpius scowled. "Your logic scares me. Besides, if it's broken, how do we go back to a specific time?"

"I don't think it works like a regular time turner, anyway. I'm sure we'll figure something out. Besides, the horcrux disappeared in the past. That means we probably succeeded. Fate, or something along those lines, right?"

"Sure. Right. Fate. Awfully optimistic of you, James."

James looked away sheepishly. "Speaking of, you might need to go get it from your sister. She's not one to pry, but it could be dangerous if she did look. Remember, I spent a whole week in the forties. That was freaky."

"You don't think you should do that?"

"I really messed up, Scorp. She hates me, at least for now. She has every right to. Besides, you're her little brother. You know how much she cares about you. She'll probably feel better if you talked to her than if I did. Hell, anyone would feel better talking to you instead of me."

"Are you sure you'll be all right down here?"

James shrugged. "I'll probably fix myself something to eat and pass out on the couch. I feel like I could sleep for years. There is food here, right?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes and rose to leave. "Some. I suppose I'll go and talk to her, then. Seems to be my gift."

"Damn fine gift, too. Just you watch, once you get a little older and go through a growth spurt or something you'll have to invent a new spell just to keep the girls away. They're into the sensitive, listening types."

"Hopefully sooner rather than later."

"Just wait, kid. Just wait."

Scorpius laughed as he ascended the steps. "Believe me, I am waiting."

 **0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Calliope was hunched in her bed as Scorpius crept into the dusty old bedroom they shared, clutching a small vial in one hand and a photograph in the other. A sealed envelope rested beside her, sitting atop the things she had confiscated from James. She shifted a little as Scorpius stepped through the door, fingering the plate that displayed the name of a previous occupant, but did not acknowledge him. After a few moments of uneasy silence, Calliope spoke in a ragged and resigned voice.

"I overreacted, I know. He probably had a reason and…"

She trailed of and rubbed her thumb over the vial, studying its contents for a moment. "How will we know when the time is right? What if we open the vial at the wrong moment, view the memories when they have lost their helpfulness? What kind of vague instruction, uncalled for pressure was he trying to force on us?"

Scorpius said nothing, merely walking over and settling next to his sister. She moved to give him room, allowing him to rest his head in the crook of her arm, but still refused to even look at him.

The picture clutched in her hand was a familiar one. Their mother, bushy brown hair pulled back in some updo and hidden under a white veil, had linked arms with her father, his pale platinum blonde hair fancily slicked back in a way that Scorpius refused to copy and his translucent gray eyes flashing brilliantly. Both were smiling quite happily, but underneath lurked a hidden emotion, a dark penetrating fear of the future. Perhaps their lips were pressed just a bit too tightly, or their smiles were wavering ever so slightly. It would not have been evident to anyone else. The children though, knowing their father as they did, could see it.

They had both inherited their father's pale hair, though it was undeniably corrupted by their mother's curls and frizz. Calliope had her father's pale gray eyes while Scorpius inherited his mother's down to the exact almond shape and honey color.

"Scorpius?"

The boy had been lost in his own mind. He looked up sharply. "Maybe he couldn't give us anymore information."

Calliope laughed harshly, shaking her head. "I have a job to do and I have been neglecting it. James is back now. He can take care of you."

"He says you hate him. What will I tell him if you just disappear?"

"I don't care what you tell him. He knows I didn't mean that."

Scorpius smiled slightly. "I'm sure he was just being melodramatic. You know James. I honestly doubt he really believes that."

"I had every right to be angry."

"We know, Callie. We know."

Calliope pressed her face into her brother's pale curls and squeezed her eyes shut. "You're not supposed to be the mature one. You know that, right? I'm your big sister. I'm supposed to be the one to kiss your scraped knees and tell you bedtime stories. Make you feel better. Its not supposed to be the other way around."

"You tell wonderful stories, Callie."

Calliope sighed. "He's dead, Scorpius. He's dead. It still hurts."

"I know, Callie."

"You have to understand. That's why I was so upset with James. I didn't want to lose someone else. There's nearly no one left."

"I do. I understand, Callie. And I still haven't given up on Grandma Cissy."

"We haven't heard from her in years, Scorp."

Scorpius said nothing.

"No one left," Calliope whispered again.

"Stop it, Callie. You should be happy. James is alive. And," he added pointedly, "he figured out how to find the horcrux. It'll all be over."

Calliope jerked away, studying her brother intently. Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be almost on the verge of hope. "What?"

"Department of Mysteries. That little pouch you took from him. It's a specialized time turner. It'll take us back years instead of hours. That means-"

"1996!" Calliope sprung out of the bed quickly, her previous depression instantly replaced by frantic excitement. She hurriedly stuffed the vial and picture into one of the various pockets lining her jacket and rushed over to where a large bag had spilled its contents of assorted books and scraps of paper. "The horcrux! He'll be mortal! We can finally destroy him. The laws of time! Of course!"

"You're welcome for the good news," Scorpius muttered, though not grudgingly. "Though I shouldn't be surprised you figured it out so quickly. I offer you my sincere congratulations."

She spun around, clutching a tattered book. "Don't be sarcastic; you're not James. That's why it disappeared! It was always meant to disappear because that was when we took it! Bloody brilliant!"

"You should thank him. James is the one who figured it out to begin with."

Calliope flushed. "I suppose I should. He can't come back, though. He needs to stay and protect you. I have to go."

"What? No! I won't let you go alone! I won't let anyone else die for me!"

"It cannot be anyone else! Scorpius, the prophecy-"

"Bugger the prophecy! I won't let you!"

"I can't let you interfere!"

"Then you're an idiot!"

Calliope's eyes blazed. She strode forward and snatched up the little bag. Scorpius's eyes widened.

"No! There's something I didn't tell you. The time turner, it's-"

"I can't let you! I have to protect you. Me!"

"Callie, wait! You can't-"

Just as her younger brother reached forward and gripped her wrist tightly, Calliope extracted a broken piece of the time turner. Her eyes widened momentarily in pure shock. And then, in a flash and with a pop not particularly distinctive to usual time turners, both were gone.

 **AN: Hello lovelies! Updates may be sporadic, so stay with me. I do intend on seeing both stories through. So, thoughts? I live and breathe reviews. What houses do you think our newest trio members are in? I already know, but do you? If its not obvious, Hermione is the little Malfoylings' mother, so this is DM/HG as well as HP/GW. This is also Deathly Hallows compliant and partially epilogue compliant, though not completely.**


	2. 1996

**AN: Hello my sweet readers! Love you all so! You know, though, what would make this poor, pathetic author very happy? REVIEWS, OF COURSE! Come on, people! Show your love Fell free to review or PM me anytime. I WILL reply! It doesn't even have to be about the story! I just like talking to people. I need more friends. :P Anyway, on with the story. Like I said, reviews get replies!**

 _Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_

 _Because their words had forked no lightning they_

 _Do not go gentle into that good night._

 _Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_

 _Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 _-Do not go gentle into that good night, Dylan Thomas_

-2005-

 _"_ _The dark twin beckons…a shadow of defeat emerging from the ashes of victory…and the child born under the sky of twins… from the scars of years passed… marked for greatness…marked for greatness…marked… marked… shadows everywhere… beware the betrayer, whose meaning is strife…beware the protector, hidden by the betrayer's mask...they travel a distance never travelled…beware….beware….beware…"_

 _"_ _I don't like this, Potter!"_

 _"_ _Well, neither do I! Do you think I like wondering around, talking to madwomen and you of all people while my wife's at home alone with James and Albus?"_

 _Draco Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets irritably, and then withdrew them once again. He resorted to scowling at the man hurrying along next to him._

 _"_ _Whom else was I supposed to tell? Weasley? You'd have to be one sick bastard to force me into that. He goes on the offensive every time I so much as look at him. Hell, you barely tolerate me, and that's just for Hermione's sake."_

 _Harry Potter ignored him, his bright green gaze cast down at the gravel in front of him. "'Born under the sky of the twins' What do you suppose she meant by that?"_

 _Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter, you believe that old bat? And I thought she was mad before."_

 _"_ _I've learned to trust her prophecies."_

 _Both halted. Harry continued to tersely stare at the ground while Draco scanned the area around them uneasily. "If it were true, if he were back, wouldn't your scar be hurting?"_

 _"_ _You can't just dismiss the pain you've felt in your Dark Mark."_

 _The man he addressed flinched slightly, but Harry continued. "How long did you say its been going on? A couple of weeks?"_

 _Draco shook his head, seemingly resigned. "About a month."_

 _"'_ _The dark twin beckons.' You don't think that's just a little odd?"_

 _A short shrug, then two transluscent gray eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking, Potter?"_

 _"'_ _Sky of the twins.' Could mean a constellation. The twins. Gemini."_

 _"_ _But that's this month!"_

 _Harry shrugged gloomily. "I know," he muttered softly. "That's the thing. Albus was born only last week. It could be him."_

 _The gray eyes rolled now in derision. "Not everything has to be about you, Potter. Though I should have guessed that fame and a hero's complex were genetic."_

 _"_ _I'm serious, Malfoy!" Harry hissed, jerking his head up angrily. "I don't want him to go through what I went through! 'Marked for greatness.' 'Scars of years passed.' Al has a rather large birthmark just above his knee!"_

 _Draco laughed harshly. "Merlin! I had thought you were joking. A birthmark on his knee? Say it isn't so! How horrid! Really, Potter, sometimes scars are just scars and a birthmark is just a birthmark. Nothing more, nothing less. Who else do you suppose it could be?"_

 _Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Today is Calliope's birthday."_

 _"_ _Yes," Draco agreed fervently. "Which is why I'd really like to go home now. I've wasted enough time for one day with crazed seers. My daughter won't ever forgive me if I don't return home early enough to read her a story on her birthday."_

 _"_ _No! Don't you see? Today is her birthday. She, too, was born 'under the sky of the twins.'"_

 _Draco blanched for a moment, but quickly recovered and began to walk again with his hands firmly secured inside his pockets. "Sorry, Potter. Callie can't be your supposed prophecy child. She hasn't any unusual marks above either of her knees. What's Al's shaped liked, anyway?"_

 _"_ _It's not shaped like anything! It's a birthmark!"_

 _"_ _Bugger. I was wondering if he took after you and had a little bolt of lightning on his knee. Now that would have been something. I suppose we can't all be heroes."_

 _"_ _Malfoy!"_

 _"_ _Did you know," Draco continued thoughtfully, placing a single mocking finger on his chin, "that some muggle cultures believe that a birthmark is where you were killed in a past life? Learned that bit from Hermione. Terrible thing to be killed by a strike to your knee. Very inconvenient. I offer him my condolences."_

 _"_ _Malfoy, stop being such a miserable prat and actually listen! This is extremely important!"_

 _The sarcastic expression on Draco's face vanished as his mood darkened considerably. "This is your problem, Potter, and not mine. You're the hero, and your little brat probably is just like you. As if whatever powers there may be would choose a Malfoy to save the day. And I don't know why we're even discussing this in the first place! The Dark Lord has not returned, will not return, and can never return in any form or fashion. It just isn't possible! I can't allow it to be a possibility! This is just some publicity stunt by a senile old seer who enjoyed the fame of making one good prophecy a little too much!"_

 _"_ _She's Hermione's child, too."_

 _The words were quiet, barely audible in fact, but Draco heard them. He froze suddenly as if he had turned to stone, and turned his head with a frigid sharpness. The two men merely studied each other, jaws clenched and eyes transformed into slits._

 _"_ _He's not back, Potter. He's not. He's not."_

 _They both stared at each other anxiously, both trembling despite the heat of the evening. Before another severe word could be said, a shimmering blue shape rounded the street corner. Both men recognized it instantly, with a strange and horrific sense of foreboding, as an otter._

 _It sidled up to Draco immediately and sat on its haunches._

 _"_ _There's someone in the house."_

 _The words were quick, and seemed to be whispered. In a rush, they emanated from the small apparition and the otter dissipated into the heavy air._

 _And as easily as they had just been arguing, just been at odds, the two men disapparated together into the darkness of the night._

 ** _0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0_**

 _The house was not nearly as large as Malfoy Manor, but considerably bigger than most houses. It was situated, in an unlikely turn of events, in a muggle neighborhood and concealed in much the same way as Grimmauld Place. Hidden between two ordinary houses and covered in glamour charms, the creation of the house arose from the need of both its primary inhabitants._

 _It would have been incredibly cruel to force the former Hermione Granger to live within the very walls that she had once been tortured, and uncomfortable for everyone involved since both Narcissa and Lucius would remain there. Draco had his own motives for purchasing a magically isolated house. The Malfoy family, after their involvement with Voldemort, their defection, and Draco's subsequent marriage, faced widespread disdain from both the remaining pureblood supremists and defenders of the light. The Malfoy heir did not want to drag his wife into the vicious circle of public ridicule just for marrying him._

 _And so, the Mayfair House was created._

 _It was very private, with no wizarding neighbors and numerous wards established to protect the home. The youngest Malfoy, Calliope, had only ever interacted with the Weasley and Potter children. These meetings were arranged and executed entirely by Hermione. Draco typically refused to attend and claimed he would sooner have his children cut off from the world completely._

 _Draco hadn't seen his own parents since Hermione was pregnant with Calliope._

 _He was distractedly reminded of that fact as he and Harry Potter apparated just outside the house. The unnaturally loud wailing of a toddler penetrated the air, causing multiple muggles to gaze out their windows in distress and fear at the very visible Malfoy residence._

 _"_ _No!"_

 _Before Harry could stop him, Draco had bolted inside._

 _"_ _Hermione!"_

 _The screaming intensified. Everywhere Draco looked, he saw destruction. Couches and chairs were overturned. Plates lay scattered across the ground, broken and fragmented. Curtains were torn and even a small fire had spread about the stairwell. Harry, following closely behind Draco, put it out with a quick auguamenti._

 _"_ _Hermione!"_

 _Draco halted abruptly outside their bedroom door, almost afraid to go in._

 _"_ _Draco," someone within croaked, and Draco flew in without another thought._

 _Little Calliope was crouched in the far corner of the room, huddled down with her face buried in her knees and her chubby hands desperately clutching her babyish platinum curls. She quieted as Draco pushed the door open, glancing up fearfully with wide gray eyes. She made no movement, no sound, as though she were trying to disappear from sight completely. Draco realized that, in that particular moment, she was unsure of who her own father was._

 _In the opposite corner lay another hunched figure, curled into a fetal position as if to protect her rounded stomach and the child within. Her frizzy hair was hopelessly matted with bloody clumps, her body dotted with bruises. Blood spilled from a distinct gash that ran the entire length of her arm, from her wrist to her shoulder. The other arm, the one mutilated by Bellatrix Lestrange, lay untouched._

 _Dripping across the wall, a gory message read:_

 ** _YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY SUMMONS. I HAVE TAKEN MY COMPENSATION FOR YOUR BETRAYEL. DO NOT FAIL ME AGAIN OR I SHALL TAKE MORE. I EXPECT YOUR LOYALTY WHEN THE TIME COMES._**

 _"_ _No!"_

 _Harry halted next to Draco. Gazing at the writing, he instantly quailed. Quickly though, he overcame his fear, he surged forward towards Hermione and knelt beside her, leaving Draco rigid in the doorway._

 _"_ _No."_

 _"_ _Draco! She's still alive! Get over here!"_

 _Draco obeyed._

 _"_ _Dra…co."_

 _Harry shook his head angrily. "She has signs of the cruciatus curse. Multiple times, in fact. I don't know how it will affect the child. I'm losing her quickly. We have to take her to St. Mungo's or-"_

 _Her hand gripped her friend's arm with a sudden ferocity. "We haven't …any time. I won't …survive the apparation. And I'm …losing him! You can't …let us both die."_

 _"_ _Him?" Draco murmured hoarsely._

 _"_ _Mother's …intuition," she ground out. "I can already feel him …slipping away. You have to …take him …out of me. Now! Please."_

 _"_ _I-I don't-"_

 _"_ _You have to be the one …Harry," she whispered, "Draco can't. I'm …going to die either …way. This is the …only way …my child can …survive. Please, Harry."_

 _"_ _I can't possibly do this!"_

 _"_ _Please!"_

 _"_ _But it's…it's too soon. You're nearly two months early!"_

 _"_ _I have to take …a chance. He'll die …otherwise, regardless of what …happens tonight …Please, Harry. Please… Please. I-I can't …let him die, too!"_

 _"_ _But-"_

 _"_ _You have… to do it now!"_

 _Harry nodded reluctantly, but Draco began to shake his head in disbelief. "Hermione, you can't!"_

 _"_ _Draco," she gasped, "you have …to protect them …now. I'm so… so sorry."_

 _He choked down a sob, still shaking his head. Hermione closed her eyes tightly. "Harry, he can't …watch."_

 _"_ _I know."_

 _Hermione struggled to rise, supporting her weight on her elbows. Harry cradled her back with his arm hastily._

 _"_ _Draco…"_

 _"_ _No, Hermione! It can't end like this!"_

 _"_ _Oh, Draco…"_

 _Another sob. "Tell me he isn't back! Tell me this isn't all my fault!"_

 _"_ _I don't …blame …you…Draco…but we should…have known…this…wasn't over…there are always tyrants…there…will always be…Dark Lords…always…Grindelwald…Voldemort…it doesn't…end…."_

 _"_ _How did this happen?"_

 _"_ _He wasn't imaginary."_

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"…_ _wasn't…imaginary…"_

 _"_ _Draco," Harry hissed, "she's starting to slip!"_

 _A clammy hand closed momentarily around Draco's wrist. "Go…to…Callie…she needs…you…"_

 _"_ _No!"_

 _"_ _Please…"_

 _Shaking, Draco shuffled away from the scene as Harry pressed his wand to Hermione's stomach._

 _"_ _I'm just going to cast a numbing spell first, alright?"_

 _"_ _No…time, Harry…just… just do it."_

 _Harry nodded once more and began to cast a spell, cutting into her stomach with magic. A thick, throaty scream cut through the air and Draco turned his face toward his small daughter, who was still trembling._

 _"_ _Callie? Sweetheart?"_

 _The small girl shivered. Draco chewed his lip as the cries continued behind his back._

 _"_ _Look at me, Calliope."_

 _Calliope drew a quaky breath. "Is it really you, Daddy?"_

 _"_ _Of course it's really me."_

 _Calliope shook her head. "That's what he said."_

 _"_ _Who?"_

 _She blinked, then lunged forward as her large eyes, so similar to his own, filled with tears. "I thought he was my friend!" she sobbed loudly._

 _Draco wasn't quite sure how to respond. Her face was tucked in the crook of his neck, and he realized uneasily that she was watching Harry and Hermione. He pulled her off of him and held her frail shoulders with both hands._

 _"_ _Just look at me, alright? Just look at me. Listen to my voice," Draco instructed shakily. The screaming had stopped._

 _"_ _Look at me."_

 _Seconds passed in silence, but Draco refused to turn around. Calliope stood frozen, not even blinking. She seemed too afraid of accidentally seeing what lay behind her father's obstructive form._

 _A thin whimper sounded, followed by a rapid muttering of a spell and a crying that seemed to strengthen as time passed._

 _"_ _Draco."_

 _Draco felt a hand on his shoulder, and saw Calliope's eyes dart away from him and to the figure beside him. The whining was close now, horrifyingly close._

 _Without drawing a breath, Draco slowly turned his head._

 _"_ _It's a boy, Draco."_

 **0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

-1996-

The first time Draco had showed Calliope that memory was nearly two years ago, and it had not been willingly. With the frequent occulemency lessons her father had forced upon her since the beginning of her fourth year, it had been inevitable for certain memories to slip. Calliope was naturally talented with the skill, of course, something commonly credited to her grandmother, Narcissa. However, no person can be too terribly proficient at anything without endless practice, regardless of natural ability. Other memories had appeared, but this left the largest impact. It made Calliope remember something she had tried to outgrow, tried to forget.

It made her remember _him._

And now, as her body tumbled roughly again and again through an oddly shaped, black-walled tunnel, it was that horrific memory that surged through her mind and infiltrated her thoughts. She had used time-turners before, yes. This, though, was like nothing she had ever experienced.

With a monstrous crash, her body smacked into a stone wall and a suit of armor toppled onto her prone body.

" _Bloody Hell!,"_ a scratchy voice exclaimed a little ways away. Calliope could only release a small whimper as her brother pushed the armor off of her. Calliope allowed herself to curl into a small ball.

"Language, Scorp," she moaned. "I swear you've been spending too much time around James." Her brother allowed a ghostly grin to grace his features as he checked her for injuries. She snatched her left arm from his grip before he could peel back the sleeve and rose unsteadily.

"I'm fine," she snapped with a little more force than was necessary, cradling the arm. Scorpius raised an eyebrow, barely distinguishable in the gloom.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," Calliope muttered. "Perfectly fine."

Scorpius took a step back, concern dissolving into anger. "Why wouldn't you just listen to me for once?"

Calliope chose to ignore him. "We're in Hogwarts," she whispered.

"Yeah," Scorpius growled. "I think I figured that out for myself."

Calliope scowled. "Such sarcasm, Scorp! Don't do that. It doesn't suit you at all."

Scorpius's pale cheeks colored slightly as Calliope rummaged for something on the ground. She help up a sliver of glass gingerly and dropped it in the bag hat held the time turner.

"Don't we-Don't we need to get back?"

Calliope sighed deeply. "Right now I don't think we can. It took us back as soon as I touched it, yeah? Well, it didn't take us back when I picked it up just now."

Scorpius, in a gesture that had become habitual in the past couple of years, began to pinch the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Calliope turned silently and began walking down the passageway.

"Well, come on then."

Scorpius started and hurried to catch up. "Where are we going?"

"Headmaster's office. It's the best place to get information as to exactly _when_ we are. I have a feeling we're in the right place, but I'd rather encounter a single headmaster than a load of impressionable students who could grow to know us and recognize us."

"Why do you think we're in the right place?"

Calliope turned a corner, stalking through the darkened halls like a predatory cat. Scorpius noticed her shoulders tense and give an involuntary twitch. "That is not an ordinary time turner, I know that much."

"What? Haven't read anything about odd time turners?" Scorpius joked.

He had expected quite a different reaction than what he received. Calliope halted, and in his haste Scorpius crashed into her. "You should not have interfered. You are not supposed to be here!"

"Neither are you! That's sort of the point! I get this prophecy shite from every other person in the entire wizarding world! I don't need it from you, too!"

Calliope began to walk again without so much as a backward glance. "No, I haven't read anything. And that is exactly what bothers me so much."

"Don't do this, Callie!"

"What, Scorpius?" she asked tiredly.

"This! Getting all cold and distant. You haven't been like this since-"

"Don't say it, Scorpius."

"Since-"

"Don't!" she screeched. Scorpius recoiled and they both glanced around quickly to ensure the noise hadn't attracted any attention.

"Then don't act like a spoiled brat!" he hissed.

Calliope whirled around. "A- A- A what, Scorpius? Really? A brat? That's really rich. I'm a spoiled brat. I'm a spoiled brat? Huh! Would you look at that!"

Scorpius immediately seemed to become somber and miserable. "I'm sorry, Callie! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that. Not at all! It's just this whole thing with 'don't interfere' and 'don't put yourself at risk' and letting others fight and die for me!"

"I'm a spoiled brat?" Calliope whispered hollowly. Scorpius began to rapidly and desperately shake his head.

"No! No, Callie, I didn't-"

"That is just too rich! Too terribly rich! 'Oh no! People are dying in a war! How surprising! I don't want a prophecy. I don't want this _terrible_ burden! Woe is me!'"

Scorpius took a pleading step forward. "Please, Callie, I didn't mean it!"

"What is going on here?"

Both siblings froze at the sound of the harsh drawl.

"Unless you do not understand how to speak, which I seriously doubt considering the sheer amount of noise you were making, one of you needs to answer me immediately.

The man raised his wand menacingly.

"I'm waiting."

Calliope, in a sudden primal, useless gesture, pushed her brother behind her as though they had not been fighting at all.

"Professor Snape," Calliope said evenly. "I'm terribly sorry. Please don't give us detention," she added a slight whine to her voice. "We'll get back to our rooms immediately."

She shifted to block Scorpius from view more effectively as the man's probing eyes searched past her.

"I do not know either of you."

Calliope feigned an expression of confusion and hurt. "We're both Hufflepuffs, sir," she prattled, as if that explained everything. But she knew this was pointless. She had felt him push against her mind the moment he started speaking, and Scorpius was rubbish at occulemency.

"My office. Now. I expect you know where that is, Mr. Malfoy," he strode forward and gripped Scorpius's arm. Calliope let him. She recognized defeat. Scorpius looked both embarrassed and apologetic as the man led them away.

"Well," he drawled after leading them through multiple passages and doors and finally to a neat, bare room with a large desk. His eyes flickered over Calliope and returned to Scorpius just as quickly.

"I have seen into your mind, albeit briefly. But I did not delve too far. This is your chance to explain before I have to find the information myself. I will," he spread his hands expressively, "of course know if you are lying."

Calliope opened her mouth to retort, but Snape cut her off abruptly. "Not you," he clucked.

Scorpius fidgeted. "Well," he spoke slowly. "I- I suppose you must know we- we're- we're from the- uh- the –the future." He glanced at Snape appraisingly. If the professor was at all surprised, he did not show it. In fact, he did not respond at all, and Scorpius was forced to continue without even a small signal while Calliope seethed.

"We- uh- coming back here was an accident," he babbled.

"And?" Snape prompted.

"Excuse me," Calliope interrupted. "Exactly how much did you see?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Lily Evans," Calliope said suddenly, and despite himself Snape tensed.

"What did you say?"

Calliope stared ahead dangerously while Scorpius looked merely confused by the conversation. "What did you see?"

Snape released a heavy sigh through his nose. "Not much, really. Names. Family. And I must say I was surprised by your…parentage. I can, of course, delve a little deeper if need be."

He glowered at Calliope as she shifted uncomfortably. "Don't," she whispered.

"Then tell me what you know of…Lily."

"Everything," she snapped.

Snape leaned back. "Who told you?"

"My father."

"Does he know?"

Calliope cast a sidelong look at her younger brother. "No."

"I see."

"Sir, I'm afraid we wont be able to get back anytime soon. Is there some sort of safe house, or-"

Snape made a single, jerking movement with his whole body, rising once again to his feet. "I will not be the one to deal with that. I have seen inside your mind, so I know you are not a death eater, Mr. Malfoy. You're too much of a Gryffindor."

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "How did you-"

"I can recognize a pathetic lion when I see one. What I did glimpse of your memories was more than enough. Though, with all that babbling you were doing, I'm surprised you're not a witless Hufflepuff."

"Sir," Calliope cut in, a stern look flitting briefly across her pointed features. "You know as well as I do that Death Eaters can come from any house.

Snape sniffed. "Of course, but your brother, Miss Malfoy? Not a chance in the world. Now, Mr. Malfoy, come with me."

Calliope rose to leave as well, but the professor laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Not you. I'm afraid I don't particularly trust you. Unless, of course, you're willing to open your mind to me."

"You have no right!"

Snape sneered. "Then I regret to inform you that you must stay here until I fetch someone to come and see you. I don't have nearly enough time to waste dealing with spoiled _brats."_

The corner of his lip twisted upward in a cruel smile as he spat the word out, and Scorpius quite visibly flinched. Calliope had to fight to reign in her rage.

"I won't let you-"

"Ah, ah, ah! You cannot do anything about it. I will send someone in to see you shortly. Try not to break anything."

Before either of the siblings could protest, the professor apparated from the room with an irritating pop, leaving Calliope to fume by herself.

 **AN: Thank you to missesdurden, Keniie Masen, cristotwitch, dragonjun, and enticement for following or favoriting my story. I really do appreciate it. So now we know that little Scorpy is one of those annoying Gryffindors like his dear old mum, but we still don't know about Calliope. What do you think? Just so you know, I will respond to all reviews I get, so you know the drill. Until next time!**


	3. The Burrow

**AN: This story would have been posted yesterday if not for the server being down. :P Forgive me this time? It's not like I'm good at updating on time anyway. :D :D I do want everyone to know that I will finish this story. It will not be abandoned, though it may take a while to get through it. And there will be NO bashing in this fic, unless it's a character JK Rowling expressed particular distaste for in her magnificent originals (Shocker! I do NOT own Harry Potter or his friends!) I like to keep things as in character as possible. I would say humanly possible, but I think we all know that writers are not human beings, but destroyers of social lives and murderers of our favorite characters. *takes a little bow* Guilty as charged.**

 **I want to thank all of my new fans, those people who have just recently followed or favorited this story: Ramyfan, magneto acolyte, tianemariah1, Icelynne, accio-logic, Peach Diva, genoue, dancerengland, and dragonjun. You guys are truly wonderful! Also a MAJOR thank you to my first three reviewers, Ramyfan, magneto acolyte, and accio-logic. As promised, reviews get replies. So here are yours:**

 **Ramyfan- I think that the ending I have planned is more hopeful than sad, but the story itself has a lot of tragic events and deaths, such as the memory of Hermione's death at the beginning of the last chapter. Yeah, that was depressing to write. I appreciate your excitement! You're wonderful, friend! Thanks somuch for your review.**

 **accio-logic- You'll find out what house Callie is in very soon, but you are definitely on the right track! Thank you so, so much for being my first reviewer. I appreciate it more than I can possibly say. You're the best! Thank you again for loving my story! I plan on (and note I did say plan, so don't kill me if I just can't *glances around fearfully*) posting another chapter this weekend, because I'll have a bit more time than usual, just for you!**

 **magneto acolyte- Thanks so much for reviewing! It really does mean a lot. Hope you review my later chapters, as well!**

 **And now, on with the show!**

 _"_ _I looked upon the scene before me-upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain-upon the bleak walls-upon the vacant eye-like windows-upon a few rank sedges-and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees-with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium-the bitter lapse into everyday life-the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart-an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime."_

Edgar Allan Poe, "Fall of the House of Usher"

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It had been an hour. An hour! Surely, if she were so very untrustworthy, they would have sent someone sooner. No, they were testing her! Of course! To see if she would do or steal something when their backs were turned. Well, she wouldn't. She wouldn't break. She had been through worse, had hidden memories far worse in the recesses of her mind from the most powerful of legimens.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

Breathe in. Breathe out. An hour and fifteen minutes.

It had always annoyed James. He was so unused to being upset or anxious over anything to possibly understand the multiple therapeutic properties of simply pacing. He would laugh at her mostly, but when he was indulging in a new quidditch magazine and she was stressing over some test in Divination, her absolute worst subject, he would sigh and groan several times before crossing the room and forcing her to sit by taking hold of her shoulders. Most of the time, she wouldn't even realize she had risen, but glared at him nonetheless. He would then proceed to stretch across her lap, successfully immobilizing her much to her feigned distaste, and continue to 'read'. After a while, as she begun to develop her occulemency, she had ceased to display her emotions so openly, and the pacing had stopped.

Now, though, she was doing it again. Maybe it was the stress or the new environment, or simply the brutality of Snape's mental attack. Whatever it was, it had her ability to maintain a stoic façade hindered, and because of it she had begun to pace.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

One. Two. Three. Turn.

Breathe in. Breathe out. An hour and thirty minutes. She fingered the glass vial in her pocket.

"Miss Malfoy, I presume?'

She started immediately at the voice, having not even realized when the older man came in.

"D- Dumbledore? You-"

He man's eyes gleamed with mirth, and a chuckle bubbled from his lips. "Yes, my dear girl, I know. Professor Snape kindly told me. Is it wrong of me to be at least a little glad that you have come?"

He strolled in, making it a point to ignore Calliope's rigidness. The young witch, for her part, was working very hard to reconstruct her mental shields before he could probe.

"Severus told me that you're brother would be a Gryffindor. You can probably tell that I was pleased immensely. I can't remember there ever being a Malfoy in Gryffindor, save for Cassius, but that was entirely too long ago. I doubt you would have heard of him; I believe he was blasted off the family tree. I am rambling, aren't I?"

The blue eyes twinkled. "Why is it so very pleasant to hear, you may be wondering? Well, aside from gaining an apparently very noble member to my house, it means that there is a future, not too distant, in which a Malfoy can not only marry a muggleborn, but have a Gryffindor son! It means, my dear girl, that we succeeded."

"Snape told you that bit, too, did he?"

"Yes," he remarked sternly. "Severus did. I must admit I was the slightest bit surprised, but elated nonetheless. Young Mister Malfoy and the clever Miss Granger? I would never have believed the possibility."

"Where is my brother?"

The smile never faded from Dumbledore's face, but fell from his eyes. "To the point, aren't we? Rather like your father in that aspect, I suppose."

Calliope's jaw clenched.

"Severus has told me that there may be reason not to trust you. I could not fathom why. Surely there are no Death Eaters in such a future?"

Calliope was silent.

"Surely Voldemort is no longer among the living."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Calliope put great emphasis on the name, "is dead."

Dumbledore betrayed himself with a gentle sigh of relief, but suspicion remained. "Why is it, then, that you have constructed mental barriers?"

Calliope's slender fingers stroked the vial. She shivered. "Sir, coming back was an accident. I'd very much appreciate it if you could take me to my brother so we may discuss our plans for returning to our proper time."

"Ah, that is where you are wrong! It was no accident."

"Sir?"

Dumbledore held out a hand, revealing a transluscent shard of glass. "I should hope you were smart enough to realize that was no ordinary time turner?"

"Were did you get that?"

"It was embedded in your brother's hand."

Calliope's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why hasn't it-"

"Taken me back? Very simple, my dear girl. Now, be silent and watch."

As Calliope studied the glass with suspicion, it's form flickered ever so slightly. For a moment, the sliver melted into a mercury-like substance, silverish and liquid, like a hermit crab carefully coming from its shell after a while without sensing any human movement. Dumbledore's thumb twitched unconsciously, and it assumed its previous shape.

"How-"

"I haven't the time to explain it all at this moment. All I will tell you is that you are here for a reason, and that Severus does not trust you. I fear something is very wrong in the future, something you and your brother are a part of. I must know what exactly is going on," Dumbledore murmured grimly.

"I haven't the time to explain it," Calliope growled, her lip curling ever so slightly in an expression reminiscent of her father. Her hands were shaking. "Where is my brother?"

Dumbledore became stern. "Miss Malfoy, I must know! You were sent here for a reason. Not simply this time, but here! Right here! I can help you, Miss Malfoy."

 _No one can know, Calliope. Trust me, sweetheart. You have to trust me._

Her fingers tightened around the vial. "Just as you are going to help my father?"

"I will try my very best. You should know that, considering where you are from."

 _Albus Severus. James figures it's a real riot, you know? He can be a real prat sometimes. I suppose you know that. You're the one who's had to put up with him for the past couple of years. Dad says I was named after the greatest men he knew. Kind of difficult to live up to, that. Sometimes, I think it would be easier to be a villain than a hero. That's not wrong, is it? It isn't as if I'd ever act on it._

Calliope took a deep breath.

 _You'll know when the time comes, my precious girl. Stay safe._

Her hand relaxed and she pulled it from her pocket, leaving the vial in the safe confines of the cloth. It wasn't time for that, not yet. But it was time for something else.

"There's this prophecy…"

 **0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

The Burrow. The last time Calliope had been here seemed so long ago, so far away. And yet, not much had changed: the outwardly cheery appearance made heavy by the various wards surrounding it and a symphony of chattering voices that could be heard from just outside. Not for the first time. She was distinctly reminded of James.

She took a deep breath as Dumbledore beckoned for her to follow him from the fence-line and towards the Weasley home. James was alive, still alive. And she intended for him to stay that way, for both of them to stay safe.

"Oh! Eat some more of this, dear. You're much too thin! My, it looks as though you haven't had anything to eat in forever!"

Calliope stilled by the door, which stood slightly ajar. She looked back at the elderly wizard trailing her, who only nodded and smiled in a twisted sort of encouragement. He placed a light hand on her shoulder and began to steer her into the house.

"Wait!" she whispered urgently, glancing at Dumbledore with uncertainty. "What should I say my name is?"

They had already established a decent backstory for she and Scorpius. They were orphans of Voldemort's recent return. Both parents, a halfblood and a muggleborn, had worked for the Ministry of Magic, which had recently been invaded. Dumbledore informed her that he told , the only one currently aware of their conjured situation, that they were tutored before, but were now to be accepted into Hogwarts for safety and protection, as they had no living relatives.

Molly Weasley, as expected, had offered to watch after them during the summer.

Dumbledore smiled again. "I think it would be acceptable to keep your given names. I'm sure, given the properties of the special time turner that brought you both here, it will turn out all right. There is, of course, the issue with your last name."

Calliope nodded.

"Well," he continued. "I think Montague would suffice. A very old, but mostly extinct, wizarding line. Well enough known not to be suspicious, but not well enough known to be questioned. How'll that do?"

"Fine, I suppose," she murmured hoarsely. "And what shall I say of our Hogwarts houses?"

"Only that I have already sorted you both individually. I think you both were sorted accordingly, so I will not meddle with that. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Dumbledore seemed to pause, and glanced quickly at the young witch. "You are certain you have told me everything?" Calliope's fingers brushed the glass vial tucked safely in her pocket.

"Yes," she lied. She swallowed the bile that had been rising in her throat since the house had first come into view.

"Good. Now," he inclined his head and twisted the doorknob slightly. "In you go."

"Sure thing," she muttered.

Molly Weasley glanced up as they entered, a large bowl and a wooden spoon in her calloused hands. A brief expression of shock and apprehension passed over her features, but she quickly suppressed it. Calliope had a feeling that she knew why the emotion had originated.

"Do come in, dear! You're nearly as scrawny as your brother. Come! Come! Eat! Eat! Come, dear, come."

Calliope, lingering uncertainly by the door, crept over to a chair and sat gingerly at the matronly woman's insistence. She tried to squelch the tremors that threatened to overtake her lithe form. Dumbledore beamed.

"Molly, I do hope I am not overloading you this year? Harry alone can be quite the handful."

She shrugged his question off with one hand as she ladled soup into Calliope's bowl with the other. "Oh, they're no bother! They look as though they've been through the mill and an earthquake! I'll take any you send my way, Albus, I assure you!"

Dumbledore dipped his head. "They do have their own account at Gringotts for anything they may need."

"Oh, Albus, they'll be fine! Harry and Ron were down here earlier. They hit it off with this sweet boy," she beamed at Scorpius before glancing toward the rickety stairs. "They went off to get something. Said they'd be down in hardly any time at all."

"Well, if there is anything you need-"

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes. "Oh, go, you insufferable man! Go on! You have too many important things to be doing right now. I'm _fine!_ Now go on!"

Dumbledore was able to flash the children one more knowing smile before being shooed from the house by Mrs. Weasley. The matriarch turned as the door shut and beamed.

"Well, now! Is there anything you'll be needing? Anything at all? Oh! I have some fresh biscuits in the other room! You two need all the food you can get!"

As she hurried from the room, allowing the sibling just seconds alone, Calliope leaned over to Scorpius and whispered, "Our last name is Montague, though I assume they've already briefed you on that. If you're asked any difficult questions, just follow my lead. Got it?"

Scorpius nodded hesitantly, eyes still trained on his food and hand still clutching the spoon. "You're not- you're not still upset, are you?"

His sister sighed tiredly. "No, I'm not."

"Aha. Here they are, dears." Mrs. Weasley bustled back into the kitchen, setting the plate of biscuits between the two. "Anything else?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Calliope uttered politely. The witch smiled and gazed momentarily over her shoulder.

"The boys should be back down soon, Scorpius. You'll be sharing a room with Ron. Harry, poor dear, has the most horrible nightmares." She shifted her attention to Calliope. "I didn't catch your name, dear. What is it?"

The young witch blinked. "Calliope."

The woman nodded sagely. "That's a lovely name. You'll share a room with Ginny, my daughter you know, and Hermione Granger. She's a good friend of the boys."

"I want to share a room with Scorpius," Calliope interjected. Mrs. Weasley appeared sympathetic.

"I'm terribly sorry, dear, but we haven't the room. Harry has...You'll get along just fine with the girls, I wouldn't wonder. They're both quite sweet young ladies, very hospitable."

Calliope stared into her soup.

"Now, ah, is there anything that's going to be brought over for you? Anything that needs to be fetched?"

Scorpius looked at Calliope cautiously.

"We lost everything," she supplied softly, her eyes suddenly vacant. It was one thing she could be honest about. Scorpius fidgeted and Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips.

"You poor things."

Uncomfortable silence descended, broken only be the scraping of spoons in bowls. Calliope took a deep breath and focused on remaining emotionless, an especially difficult feat for her.

"Are you, by any chance, related to the Malfoys?" Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly. Scorpius nearly choked on his soup, and the woman smiled guiltily.

"I only ask because you, Calliope, look so much like one. Not that I would accuse you or your parents of being affiliated with such," she added as an afterthought, her lip curling in an uncharacteristic fashion.

"I don't believe so," Calliope asserted, reaching for a napkin and wiping her mouth. Mrs. Weasley began refilling her bowl absentmindedly. Scorpius dipped his spoon back into his bowl.

"Odd," Mrs. Weasley prattled. She abruptly rose and crossed over to the stairs.

"Ron! How long does it take to fetch one old keeper cap?"

"Oi! _Signed_ keeper's cap, Mum! And Harry and I are coming down now!"

The motherly woman grinned again at the siblings and disappeared again into the next room.

"Odd, indeed," Calliope muttered.

Loud clomping echoed down the staircase, getting louder and louder as tall shadowed trailed silkily down. The footsteps were quiet compared to the excited whisperings of the two boys, though Calliope couldn't exactly make out what they were saying. - Harry and Ron- looked up as they reached the bottom, startling when they saw her. They exchanged none-too-discreet looks and shuffled their feet vaguely before - Harry- shuffled forward.

"You-er- must be his sister, then?"

His gaze and voice were both full of distrust, and Calliope was forced to bite her lip to avoid feeling like a flobberworm under a potion master's magnifying glass. He seemed… different somehow than James's father always was, and that bothered her more than she cared to admit.

"Yes. Calliope," she offered. He nodded uneasily.

"Harry."

"Ron."

Another daunting silence.

"Harry, is it just me or does she look a lot like-"

Ron was cut off immediately as his friend elbowed him in the ribs. The gangly wizard clenched and unclenched his jaw. "We- er- we- um…er…"

"We heard about your parents, at the Ministry last year," Harry said tersely. He squared his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Calliope sniffed. "Don't say that. You didn't kill them, so you aren't obligated to give an apology."

Harry stared owlishly. "But I- er…"

The witch shrugged, and her voice adopted an almost dangerous quality. "Whatever part you played in the whole thing, you're not required to play the part of the tragic hero. Unless you killed my parents yourself, you have no reason whatsoever to say you're sorry."

"Er- Right," Ron gulped. He shifted his attention to Scorpius. "I brought my cap down. Signed by the Chudley Cannons, just like I said."

Scorpius forced a grin, though Calliope could detect a faint, genuine gleam of interest in his weary eyes. "Wicked."

Harry was still staring at her, but Calliope refused to look away. She was safe here, she tried telling herself. She was meant to be here. She trusted Dumbledore, didn't she? Without preamble, her eyes still locked on the young Harry Potter, she pushed her bowl away from her and rose unsteadily. "I'm tired, and haven't the slightest interest in quidditch. If you wouldn't mind showing me where I'll be sleeping?"

Scorpius rose to follow her, but Calliope merely shook her head. "No," she mumbled. "Stay here and talk about the Chudley-whatsits. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Scorpius sat back down, but still eyed her. "You're sure?"

"Of course. Harry?"

The boy nodded and began to march back up the stairs, indicating for her to follow. And follow she did. With one last mournful glance at her brother, she trudged up the steps to find her room, which she had no idea how long she would live in, how long she would be trapped in.

And that scared her more than anything else.

When they arrived in the room, it was terribly dark. A small little cot had been laid out for her in one corner, and two sleeping bodies lay against another wall, their forms expanding with every breath and sagging with every sigh. Calliope dared not study them for too long, for fear of her gaze lingering on one girl in particular.

Her whole body tensed as she fought to block out the nagging thought that had plagued her upon arrival in this time.

Her mother was here, alive.

In the same room.

Sleeping, just a short distance away. Here. Her mother.

 _Her mother._

Taking a tremulous breath and trying desperately to think of anything else, she nodded to Harry, who responded only by shutting the door behind her. She allowed herself to settle cautiously onto her makeshift bed. She was tense, hyperactive, and painfully awake.

Her mother.

Sleep would be much too long in coming for her. Before she was admitted blissful rest, a desirable state of numb forgetfulness, she must first survive wakefulness in this twisted purgatory.

Her mother.

Calliope lay completely still, biting her tongue and allowing silent tears to track down her sheets and dampen the dingy pillow. She didn't even care that she had allowed her mental shields to dissolve almost completely.

 _Her mother._ And somewhere out there, probably already marked by Voldemort, her father.

 **AN: Sorry if you think the story is going a little slow but I think it is important to properly address each situation as it presents itself and connecting them together. Otherwise you don't have a novel, you have a collection of vignettes. Again, I cannot stress enough how valuable reviews are to a suffering *tear rolls down cheek* author. Especially since I'm sacrificing my time that could be spent trying to conquer my math homework. :) Love you all!**

 **Notice the poems or story excerpts at the beginning of each chapter? Well, I'm going to start posting the "prologue poems" as I call them at the bottom of the previous chapter in the author's note, as a sort of "next time on the Second Coming." Each poem or story excerpt is a sort of clue about the events of the next chapter. Some are fairly straightforward, some are more difficult to decipher, but I'm a major literature buff. Some may also be excerpts from classical musicals or operas, and I think it would be a cool little head's up, so here's the one for Chapter 4:**

 _I remember there was mist_

 _Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake._

 _There were candles all around, and in the lake there was a boat._

 _And in the boat there was a man_

 _…_

 _Stranger than you dreamt it_

 _Can you even bear to look?_

 _Or dare to think of me?_

 _-Phantom of the Opera,_ Andrew Lloyd Webber

 **Any questions about it? Background knowledge of the work will help on these, so don't be scared to look it up. I highly recommend all the excerpts I include. Also, don't be afraid to ask. I might have just confused you all, so… :) :) :)**

 **I also have a quick challenge for any artsy people out there. If anyone wants to draw a picture of the kiddies or a cover for the story, feel free! Tell me if you have in a review or PM! I will thank everyone who does in my AN, and would like to choose someone's design as a cover for the story. Thanks much! Review! Until next time,**

 **RL**

 **0**


	4. Granger and Phlegm

**AN: Okay, so I lied. Real life is horrible. I had a History essay, English poetry explication, and a PreCal test all due this week. Plus a Biology lab report! Can you believe that? Anyway, I did technically finish this chapter when I said I would. I contribute my tardiness entirely to editing. The things I do…**

 **Ah, well. I think this is the chapter you all have been waiting for. Hopefully I wrote the Hermione interactions appropriately. If not, feel free to chastise me. Just do it kindly. Plus, we get to find out what house Callie is in, though I'm sure most of you figured it out already.**

 **Also, I am outraged by the lack of reviews. I can't be too mad, of course, because I know how tedious it is to review. I am a reader as well as a writer. But still, come on guys. Help me out here. :)**

 **And now, on with the show…**

 _I remember there was mist_

 _Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake._

 _There were candles all around, and in the lake there was a boat._

 _And in the boat there was a man_

 _…_

 _Stranger than you dreamt it_

 _Can you even bear to look?_

 _Or dare to think of me?_

 _-Phantom of the Opera,_ Andrew Lloyd Webber

 _"_ _Would you like some tea, Callie?"_

 _Calliope blinked, and turned. Her father was lounging in his favorite chair, as usual. The Slytherin chair, he called it, because it was the only spot of bright green in the quaint little library her mother had decorated. Her platinum hair was ruffled and his shirt untucked, as he usually appeared, and an emerald tie was slung across his shoulders._

 _He uncrossed and the recrossed his legs as he shifted in the seat._

 _"_ _Are you all right, sweetheart?"_

 _The concern in his voice was so real, so palpable that Calliope found herself drawn to him without her consent._

 _"_ _I'm fine, Dad. And no, I-I don't want any tea."_

 _"_ _You're sure?"_

 _"_ _Y-Yes."_

 _Draco glanced towards the door. "Your mother should be home any minute now. She just took Scorpius to visit your grandparents for a little while. Nothing to worry about, dear heart."_

 _Calliope swayed a little, and was suddenly aware of a tugging sensation in her head, a sense of haziness in her mind._

 _"_ _Am I dreaming?"_

 _Draco-not-Draco's expression darkened. He rose suddenly and crossed over to the window, his movements jerky and harsh in a way that Calliope's father's had never been._

 _"_ _Oh dear," he said tonelessly, his eyes following some commotion on the street outside._

 _"_ _There seems to have been a terrible accident. I do hope you mother and brother were not caught up in it. Wizards are not completely immune to muggle deaths, you know."_

 _"_ _Why?"_

 _The word was spoken in a hushed sort of sob. Draco-not-Draco inclined his head._

 _"_ _I don't think they're coming home, Callie dear."_

 _Calliope swallowed._

 _"_ _Time is constant, sweetheart. You cannot change it. If your mother was meant to die, she would always have died that day, with or without interference. If your brother is meant to die, he will as well. We are just blunt tools, a means to an end."_

 _He turned, and gray eyes flashed sharply. "Except you. No Point A to Point B for you, hm dear?"_

 _"_ _What are you talking about?" she whimpered. Draco-not-Draco cocked his head and smiled devilishly._

 _"_ _Ah-ah-ah!" He wagged his finger. "Not my secret to tell."_

 _He made a sudden movement and, before Calliope could react, had snatched her left arm and held it in a vice grip. She struggled briefly, but froze in place as she looked up and saw his eyes changed. The entire eye, pupil included was liquid silver, and bubbled at the surface without breaking form._

 _"_ _Save me, Callie."_

 _She tried to rip her hand away. "Let me go."_

 _"_ _It's your fault," his voice was no longer that of her father, though his appearance remained unchanged._

 _"_ _It's your fault your mother died! Your fault that Scorpius, the wizarding world's only hope, is stranded here. Your fault!"_

 _"_ _Let me go!"_

 _Draco-not-Draco drew her closer, smiling cruelly. "It's your fault," he whispered. "And now you're alone. But you don't have to be. Just accept it. Accept your own inability to choose what happens to others, your own lack of control over your fate. Accept it and you don't have to be alone. You can be free."_

 _He released her arm suddenly and Calliope fell back with a cry._

 _"_ _You could be special! Isn't that all anyone wants? To be special? To be different? You could be. We are special, Callie. Two very special people among the ordinary masses. Why do you resist?"_

 _A green light flooded her vision, and when it cleared, her father's body lay unmoving on the floor, his eyes normal once more._

 _"_ _Your fault!"_

 _"_ _No!"_

 _"_ _Trust me, Callie."_

 _She pressed her hands to her ears. "No. Stop it! Leave me alone!"_

 _"_ _Trust me."_

Calliope could not control the scream that escaped her lips as she awoke. Cold sweat covered her body and drenched her cot, and she realized with detachment that she was shaking.

"Are you all right?"

She froze at the sound of the voice, and through the filtered light of the early dawn, she noticed a pair of brown eyes staring curiously at her from a face framed with bushy curls. _Scorpius's eyes._

 _This was her mother._ It was inconceivable, intangible. Horrific, even. She had heard stories, sure- never from her father, she reflected bitterly- but this? Meeting her mother was something that had only ever taken place in dreams. Dreams and nightmares.

The witch in the bed across from hers fidgeted uncomfortably and Calliope realized she was staring.

"Er-um-yeah…yeah, sure…per-perfectly-er…perfectly fine…"

The girl-Calliope adamantly refused to think of her as her mother for fear of allowing the mental barriers she had already begun to reconstruct collapsing-gazed at her intently. Calliope refused to even look at her. "You're sure?"

Calliope swallowed hesitantly. _Your fault._

"P-Positive."

"You must be…"

Hermione stared at her intently, obviously expecting her to supply a name without having to ask.

"Er-um-Calliope."

"Ah, yes, of course." She nodded. Calliope blinked once more and began to rise from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

Calliope shrugged on the oversized jacket she had removed last night. The need to get out, get away, was drowning her sane mind. Now that the sun had burst from the horizon it would rise quickly. And she knew for a fact that Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Pot -Harry- were early risers.

During the summer of fifth year, Harry Potter had always been the one to help her after her nightmares.

But the Harry Potter she knew was not here. Her father, who had been there for her every morning before she went to Hogwarts, was not here. No, it was only she and Scorp in a whole sea of strangers. This wasn't her mother. It couldn't be her mother. Only the girl she had been before she died. And because of her father's censorship, she had no clue whom that girl was.

"Out…Out for a walk in the garden, to help clear my head."

"Oh." Hermione Granger stared for a moment at the bag resting against her bed. She looked up sharply. "I'll come with you."

"Oh no! You-You really don't…" Calliope trailed off as the girl-not yet her mother-began to pull on a pair of boots.

"Nonsense! I want to. Besides, I'll hardly be able to go back to sleep now anyway. No harm done." She gazed at Calliope intently. "Really. Unless you-"

"No!" Calliope nearly yelped before biting down on her lip hard. "Er-no-it-it's fine…You…You can come."

Hermione rose. "All right. Coming?"

"Er-yeah…" Calliope trailed after Hermione like a ghost through the Weasley household, glancing over her shoulder every now and then out of habit. This was not her mother, not the woman who she dreamed about. Not yet, at the very least! She couldn't Hermione kept staring at her.

"So, um," Hermione paused as Calliope shut the door to the house behind her before continuing on. "I don't suppose you know what house you'll be in?"

 _Not her mother yet!_ Calliope shoved her hands in her pockets and scowled. "Actually, Dumbledore sorted us before he brought us here."

"By us, you mean…"

"My brother, Scorpius, and I."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Scorpius? That's an interesting name."

"Yes. My father had interesting taste," Calliope remarked blandly. Hermione grimaced.

"So, er, what houses-"

"Scorpius is a Gryffindor. Really, I can't think of anything else he could be. Maybe a Hufflepuff, though I'm sure my father would thrown a fit."

"You do know about Hogwarts, then?"

Calliope smirked, and the expression bothered Hermione for some reason unknown to her. "I was tutored, not raised under a rock. My-um-my…my mother both went to Hogwarts. I've read through my her thoroughly annotated _Hogwarts: A History_ more times than a friend of mine claimed was humanly possible."

Hermione's expression brightened dramatically. "Yes, I heard your mother was muggleborn."

Calliope's breath caught in her throat and she stilled, focusing her attention on a disgruntled gnome that was currently sifting through the vegetables. "Yes."

Hermione blushed suddenly, and her face fell. "I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about her if…"

"No. I didn't really know her that well. I think, though, that Scorpius is a lot like her; she was a Gryffindor. At least, that's what I've been told. I can't really make any judgments there." Slowly, she began to walk again. Hermione followed.

"So, what about you?"

Here it was. Calliope heaved a heavy sigh through her nose. "I've been told I took after my father."

"And your father went…"

 _Your husband._ "To Durmstrang," Calliope lied. Hermione continued to stare at her expectantly.

"I suppose you're bound to figure it out eventually," Calliope muttered. "I'm a Slytherin."

"O-Oh." Hermione looked down at her feet. The other witch rolled her eyes.

"You should have seen the reactions of my mother's old school friends."

Hermione was still oddly silent.

"They're not all blood-obsessed. Too many are, though," Calliope whispered sadly. "Slytherins are cunning, determined. Not inherently evil, you know. They certainly don't go charging headfirst into sticky situations without coming up with some sort of plan first like most Gryffindors will."

The witch next to her stiffened and seemed ready to protest. Calliope grinned.

"You can't tell me I'm wrong. Trust me, my brother and my best friend are both Gryffindors. I know."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Who's your best friend, then?"

Calliope realized her slip and began to worry her lip, mentally cursing herself and attempting to construct her occulemency shields so as not to betray anything in her expression or tone of voice. She regretted not getting more lessons when she had the chance. "Oh, he's graduated already," she said casually. "You wouldn't know him."

The Gryffindor stared at her with suspicion but didn't challenge her statement. Calliope glanced a little too hurriedly back at the Burrow.

"I'm sure Mrs. Weasley at least has woken up by now. We might ought to start heading back."

Without waiting for any sort of response, Calliope turned on her heel and began walking away. Hermione kept pace with her. "Fair warning, the eldest Weasley brother is engaged to an…interesting person."

Calliope raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how?"

"Part veela," Hermione spat, surprising Calliope with the venom lacing her voice. She didn't argue with her, despite knowing the interesting person to whom she was referring.

"Ah."

The door was flung open before the two girls even reached it. A pretty young Fleur stood in the door, grinning broadly. Calliope's heart lurched as she remembered Dominique. Poor, poor Dominique. Nothing but a shadow, even in the end…

And Louis…

Spunky little Louis never stood a chance.

Calliope shivered.

"Ah! You must be Calliope!"

She stepped forward and took her hand, leading her into the house. Hermione simmered behind. Molly Weasley glanced away from the cabinet and scowled briefly in Fleur's direction.

"I was just about to make breakfast. Would you like anything in particular, dear?"

Calliope shook her head, staring at the French woman in surprise. She really did look just like Victoire.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I'm fine."

Mrs. Weasley grimaced as she turned to face Fleur, who was humming happily as she pulled utensils from the drawer. "Would you mind fixing a tray for Harry?"

Fleur grinned happily. "Of course not!"

"So, you're Calliope?"

Calliope turned to face Mrs. Pot-Ginny Weasley- who was currently cradling her head in her hands. She was still in her bedclothes, and her red hair was matted from sleep. Her brown eyes reminded her painfully of James.

 _James isn't here. James is safe. James is alive._

"Yes, I am."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and gave Hermione a look. "Heard your brother is a Cannons fan."

"I suppose so, yeah. Ever since a friend of my mother's took him to one of the matches."

The girl pushed her face from her right palm to her left palm. She appraised Calliope through narrowed eyes, who was oddly discomfited by the differences in her mannerisms at this age. "Is he demented? Tell me _you_ have some sense, at least!"

Calliope snorted. "Sorry. I don't like quidditch."

Ginny sighed dramatically. "So you're both dunces, then?"

Mrs. Weasley turned around and set a hand on her hip. "Ginevra Weasley! Go upstairs and get dressed for Merlin's sake!"

Ginny sniffed and glanced over where Fleur was busying herself with some juice. "Mum's just miffed because Phlegm's been hanging off her like an extra limb," she hissed in an exaggerated whisper. She gazed about mutinously once more and slunk up the stairs.

Hermione eyed Calliope nervously. "I'm just going to go get some decent clothes on, as well."

"Oh, and Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley pulled her attention away from her cooking once more. "Tell Ginny to let Calliope borrow some of her clothes, and the same to Ron for Scorpius."

She then addressed Calliope as Hermione scampered off. "We'll get you some new robes when we go to Diagon Alley today, dear."

"Er-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Not at all, dear, not at all."

Calliope sat tentatively at the table. Moments passed with Fleur's humming and Mrs. Weasley's mad scraping and stirring sounding in the background. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley shoveled some food onto the tray she had presented to Fleur, who pranced up the stairs lightly.

She could hear voices echoing down from upstairs as Mrs. Weasley set a plate in front of her.

"Eat," she commanded sternly, in a voice that brooked no opposition. Calliope complied just as Scorpius's frizzy blond head emerged from the staircase.

Calliope glanced up from her food. "Merlin, Scorp, run a brush through your hair before you show your face."

He stared at her, taking a seat as Mrs. Weasley left the room to get something. "You sure are in a better mood this morning."

Calliope scowled. "Hardly. I just think you should look somewhat presentable in front of strangers."

"They're the Weasleys, not complete strangers-"

"Not the Weasleys we know, yet, Scorpius. And don't you dare try to convince me otherwise. I feel better thinking of them as strangers-"

"-and you're one to talk! Have you seen that mess you call hair?"

"Brushing it makes mine worse! It just makes yours wavy."

Scorpius chuckled as he plopped some eggs onto his plate. "Excuses, excuses," he teased. Calliope smiled despite herself.

"Have you-um-have you met…"

Scorpius's voice had dropped as Mrs. Weasley swept back into the room. Gone was his cheerful expression, replaced by one of anxiety. Calliope chewed her bottom lip and her leg began to bob up and down involuntarily.

"Yes," she said softly. Scorpius looked towards the stairs.

"What's she like?"

Calliope sipped her juice. "You'll see soon enough, I suppose. She should be down any minute."

Scorpius looked towards the stairs once more and nearly choked as two Weasleys, a Granger, a Delacour, and a Potter came down them.

"Oi, Hermione, this is Scorpius." Ron sauntered around the table and slung an arm around the boy's shoulders in camaraderie. Scorpius refused to look up from his eggs. "He can answer any question you have about quidditch! I'm telling you! The boy's a bloody genius. History, statistics, practically every foul you can make! D'ya know how many of those there are?"

Mrs. Weasley chuckled fondly from the kitchen. Hermione smiled halfheartedly.

"Here," Ron continued merrily, thrusting a gaudy orange shirt at Scorpius, who accepted it without lifting his eyes. "It's my Chudley Cannons one. I figured I'd let you borrow that one specially since you're such a fan of the team. I can wear my scarf!"

Ginny scoffed as she filled her plate, and her brother glowered.

"Oh, bugger off, Ginny!"

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley interjected. "Play nice with your sister while we have company."

Ron sulked over to the stove. "Then tell her to play nice with me," he hissed under his breath.

Calliope kicked Scorpius's shin under the table. He startled out of his stupor and stared. She rolled her eyes.

"Go on," she mouthed gently. "Say something to her."

His eyes began to fall again, and so she nudged him once more. He shifted and stared at Hermione, gaping like a fish out of water.

"Nice… to meet you…Hermione," he said slowly.

"Er…Nice to officially meet you, as well, Scorpius."

Ginny chuckled.

Scorpius continued staring at Hermione. Calliope nudged him under the table a bit more. Merlin! If he kept this up, she would think he had a crush on her. Her brother flinched and returned to sloppily eating his food.

 **AN: Isn't Scorpy adorable? So shy….Where in the world did he get that from? I guess children are not carbon copies of their parents. Scorpius is the type of character that writes himself, so…**

 **So, a bit of a short chapter. The first few chapters will be shorter than the rest, but once things start to happen they'll get longer. I promise! I know that I look at the word count to chapter ratio when deciding on a story to read, so hopefully people won't pass me over because of it. Anywho, no replies because no reviews! Please, guys, I don't get paid for this. (Wouldn't that be great, though?)Your reviews are the only things that keep me going.**

 **And, here's the "Poetry preview" for Chapter 5. I described them at the end of the last chapter, in case you were wondering. Each poem or story excerpt is a sort of clue about the events of the next chapter. Some are fairly straightforward, some are more difficult to decipher, but I'm a major literature buff. Some may also be excerpts from classical musicals or operas, and I think it would be a cool little head's up. If you have questions about what it is or what any in particular means, review or PM me and ask about it. I will drop some hints if asked, especially since I am rubbish at updating. :)**

 _In secret we met-_

 _In silence I grieve,_

 _That thy heart could forget,_

 _Thy spirit deceive._

 _If I should meet thee_

 _After long years,_

 _How should I greet thee?_

 _With silence and tears._

 _-When We Two Parted,_ George Gordon Byron

 **Now, just because the poem is about love doesn't mean it is foretelling romantic love! Because it is not. Search for other things it could mean. Until next time!**

 **-RL**


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